


Second Chances

by Sed



Series: Lionfang Week 2020 [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Feelings, First Kiss, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Not Really Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25449541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sed/pseuds/Sed
Summary: Lionfang Week Day 3 - HealWhy should the death of this one orc feel like a knife in his heart?
Relationships: Varok Saurfang/Anduin Wrynn
Series: Lionfang Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837471
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32
Collections: Lionfang Prompt Week





	Second Chances

Anduin had been in Orgrimmar for six days. Six days of silence. The city below his guest apartment was bustling, busy as ever despite recent events. He supposed, after a while, one became accustomed to abrupt changes in leadership. The Alliance had been fortunate in that regard; the Horde not so much.

Six days since the mak’gora. Anduin could still recall the dry rasp of the dust that blew across his face, unsettled from the earth by Sylvanas’ cowardly strike. Saurfang had bested her in words, if not in combat, and she had lashed out in rage and taken his life for her trouble.

Tomorrow, he thought with a sigh, would be a week. He would return to Stormwind, and begin the business of tracking down the Banshee Queen, who had fled after her ill-gotten victory.

He listened to the sounds of the city below his window; to the carts that rolled by, and the kodos that rumbled their way up and down the road all day. Children laughed, and vendors hawked their wares. It seemed impossible, but life went on, and the world kept turning.

Yet a deep, living pain had lodged itself within his chest that day, nestled right beside his heart, and it would not give him peace. Anduin bit back on his grief as he was overcome by another wave of inescapable sadness merely thinking of how much he hurt. It almost felt like panic, this hollow mourning. As though it couldn’t possibly be real. And yet it was.

Varok Saurfang was dead.

They had barely known one another, barely spoken outside of letters and the occasional clandestine meeting. But despite that, Anduin felt as though someone had reached into his very soul and ripped out something vital. He could still recall the sense of the orc’s presence in a room, the warmth of him. He recalled how Saurfang seemed to command the attention of others with no effort at all. There was a wisdom about him that had little to do with age, and everything to do with a lifetime of regret, but his mistakes had not hardened him against compassion, nor dulled his sense of honor. Of right.

Tears welled in Anduin’s eyes, and he brushed them away with an angry _tch_. Genn and Jaina were in the next room, and he had no interest in their pity.

If only it would stop hurting. If only he could set aside his pain and his grief for a few moments, and just _breathe_. But every other thought brought more anguish, and new pain piled on top of old, until he felt like he was drowning in waves of sorrow.

It didn’t make any sense. Why should the death of this one orc feel like a knife in his heart? They had been allies, but nothing more. There had never been time for more. And if there had been… If, somehow, he and Saurfang had been given the chance to sit in peace and simply talk? To learn about one another, and to find those places where their very different lives intersected?

He would have liked that. He would have liked it very much, he thought.

Earlier that day, Anduin had tried to take a walk around the city. With his own guards and two additional Horde escorts in tow, he had wandered the streets amidst all their teeming life, and listened to the people as their voices grew hushed upon his approach. He watched the wary glances, and not-quite-open hostility, and he wondered what it was all for. Would the Horde and the Alliance simply slip back into old habits, as they always seemed to? Would it be Thrall, next? Or even Baine? When would the next warchief fall to corruption, or to the enemy’s blade, paving the way for a monster to rise in his or her place? Was it all for nothing?

Saurfang’s death was supposed to have been meaningful. Instead, it left Anduin feeling meaning _less_. They had worked so hard, and now… Now, he didn’t know what to do.

His walk had taken him close to the city gates, past a tall spike of rough-hewn wood, banded with metal and topped in dark stains that suggested old blood. One of Anduin’s tauren escorts had informed him that it was used to display trophies taken from notable victories.

“The high overlord himself would meet the victorious here, to oversee as the head was raised for all in Orgrimmar to look upon,” the guard had explained. Anduin imagined Saurfang, a proud smile on his face as he looked over the heroes who had returned with their bloody prize. It made his chest ache to think of it.

“Now it is Overlord Natoj who will carry out this duty,” the guard had gone on to say.

The words had stopped the heart beating in Anduin’s chest, and gutted him just as surely as a blade. He’d rounded on the guard. “What?” he demanded. “What did you say?”

“It—it is Natoj, the troll,” the tauren had stammered. “He is standing just there.” He pointed to the gates, where a troll with bright blue hair stood hunched. He was talking to an orc who had stopped on her way into the city.

Anduin didn’t think. Later, he would wonder if he would have been capable of controlling himself, but at the time he had no interest in trying. “You cannot simply _replace_ him,” he’d growled. The words were bitten of sharply—angry, vicious things that felt like fire in his throat. “He hasn’t been dead a week!”

Even his own guards had seemed taken aback by his outburst. “Your Majesty, perhaps we should return to the ap—”

“No,” Anduin had snapped. “Where is Thrall?” With a shaking hand, he’d pointed to the tauren. “You. Tell him I wish to speak with him.”

“I… don’t think he will see me, sir,” the tauren had muttered uncomfortably. He looked to his companion, a blood elf whose face had gone white as a sheet when Anduin started barking instructions.

That was when he had realized what he was doing. Who he was shouting at, and where. He’d looked around to find that several people had stopped, and were watching the strange sight of the Alliance king snarling at everyone over the dignity of a dead orc.

His walk had come to a swift end after that.

Anduin had said several prayers, and sought comfort in the Light following that incident, but deep down he knew there was no blessing it could bestow that would free him of his pain. His was a wound that would bleed fiercely, and only time would allow it to heal. It was a harsh lesson he had learned after his father’s death, and later, as he watched the bodies return home to Stormwind, and despaired over his failures as king.

But why he should feel it so keenly for one orc was still beyond his understanding. And now, with Saurfang’s death, Anduin was forced to accept that he might never know.

There was a knock at his door, and he sighed. “Come in,” he called out.

It was Jaina. She wore only her mage’s dress and the silver anchor that hung around her neck. Her cloak and all the many bags and other trappings she seemed to carry with her at all times were missing. No doubt lying across her bed in the other room. Despite her own tumultuous history with its people, it seemed Jaina was far more comfortable among the Horde than even Anduin himself. A part of him wondered if perhaps she might have the answers he was so desperately seeking, as well.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. Her brows were drawn tight and her lips were pressed into a flat line. She looked around the room, as though taking in some relevant information about Anduin from his surroundings.

“Anduin, it’s…”

“Jaina?”

“You should come with me,” she said. Her tone was grave, but there was something else behind it. Something that made Anduin think he should take her very seriously, and not ask questions just yet.

He followed her out of the apartment and into the street, down the road that ran beneath his window and all the way to a dark, quiet area of the city. There, they climbed steps leading up to another set of rooms, where Jaina stopped at a door. Two orcs stood outside, both clad in vestments that proclaimed them shaman.

“You must keep calm,” Jaina warned him. The words were pitched low, but Anduin saw the eyes of one shaman flicker toward them at the sound of her voice.

He wanted to ask why she thought he might become excited, but it seemed the wrong time to object to such a simple request. Jaina turned and nodded to the shaman, who stepped aside. She opened the door, beckoning Anduin to follow, and they stepped into a dark room thick with the smell of incense.

The space inside was small, and made no less so for how crowded it was; Thrall, Baine, and two others stood before him as he entered, and Anduin offered them each a quick bow. “What is this about?” he asked. Jaina shut the door and came to stand beside him, and Anduin looked up at her. “Jaina?”

Thrall and Baine exchanged glances, and then Thrall stepped aside.

There was a strange moment of disconnect, as though Anduin had stepped through a portal into another reality. One very different from his own.

On the floor, sitting up against a pile of cushions, was Saurfang. Alive. _Breathing_. His amber eyes looked upon Anduin just as they had at the gates of Orgrimmar. He was smiling weakly. “Your Majesty,” he said. His voice was rough, as though he had barely used it, and he winced as he shifted to sit up more. But he was moving on his own, and he was alert.

Like his outburst earlier in the day, Anduin simply didn’t think. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees beside the orc—the _living_ orc—who shouldn’t have been there, but was. Who shouldn’t have been able to tilt his head in question as Anduin reached to lay his bare hands on the rough, scarred skin of his jaw, but did. He was real, and he was warm and breathing. Not ashen, or slack and lifeless upon the sands. He was alive. The breath that caught in his throat when Anduin pressed their lips together was no trick of magic.

“Anduin—!” Jaina gasped somewhere over his shoulder.

Anduin’s eyes flew open. His entire body flushed hot all at once, and his lips parted in surprise. He could see one of Saurfang’s amber eyes watching him, too close to be considered proper, and as wide as his own.

He fell back on his heels, but did not let go of Saurfang’s face. “I…” he tried to say. His mouth worked silently, refusing to surrender another sound.

“Perhaps… we should give them the room,” Baine said. Anduin caught a surprised sound from Thrall, followed by a grunt that could only be agreement. There was some shuffling, and he was aware of the room clearing around them.

Saurfang watched him, and Anduin watched Saurfang. And then they were alone.

“How?” he asked quietly after the others had left.

“Thrall,” was all Saurfang said. He raised a hand and brought it to the side of Anduin’s face. His callused palm cradled Anduin’s jaw so very gently. “What is this?”

Anduin could not keep from leaning into the heat of his touch. The proof that he was alive. He stroked a scar with his thumb, and felt Saurfang do the same. “I don’t know,” Anduin said. That was a lie; he knew, even as he professed ignorance, exactly what it was. He knew now what it meant. Why that pain had been so sharp, so merciless, and latched on with so much fury that he thought his heart might bleed all over the earth beneath him. “Why didn’t they tell me?”

Saurfang shook his head. “It wasn’t certain I would survive, even if they were able to revive me.”

“But you did.”

“I did.”

Anduin kissed him again. He felt Saurfang tense beneath him for just a second, as though he couldn’t decide how to respond, or even if he should respond at all. And then he relaxed into it, and his other hand, just as big and warm and rough as the other, came around Anduin’s back to pull him closer. “Your eyes are red,” he muttered against Anduin’s mouth. “Have you been crying?”

All Anduin could do was nod, and then kiss him again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” That, at least, was the truth. “But I am so very sorry, and so glad. I don’t quite know what to do.”

“Anduin,” Saurfang rumbled affectionately. He pulled back and looked into Anduin’s eyes. “You have done enough.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

The patient smile he received said that Saurfang didn’t quite agree, but he kept whatever arguments he might have had to himself. Instead, he gently guided Anduin to sit beside him, leaning his head against one of Saurfang’s broad shoulders. He held Anduin’s hand atop his bare chest and covered it with his own. Beneath lay the mottled knot of dark flesh left over from Sylvanas’ attack.

“What will happen now?” Anduin asked after a quiet moment had passed.

“I don’t know. The Horde has no need of a warchief anymore, and the council has already been appointed.” Saurfang hummed, and the sound seemed to vibrate all the way through Anduin’s body. It felt like joy. “This is a strange new Horde I have returned to.”

“It’s only been a week,” Anduin said. _Six days,_ a voice reminded him.

“And yet so much as changed.”

 _More could change,_ Anduin wanted to say. _You could come to Stormwind. Come with me. Leave this behind._

“This,” Saurfang continued. He tapped Anduin’s hand with his thumb. Then he leaned down and placed a kiss upon his forehead. “And this.”

Anduin reached up and caught his lips before he could withdraw completely. “It’s changed for me as well,” he murmured against his mouth. “For the better, I think.”

Before Saurfang could respond, there was a knock at the door. Anduin fought the instinctive urge to sit up and withdraw from the safe circle of his arms. “Yes?” Saurfang called.

It was Baine. He came into the room with his eyes politely averted, as though he expected to catch them in the throes of passion, rather than a mere embrace. “Lady Jaina has asked if you might be done, er… talking…”

“Baine, my friend,” Saurfang sighed, “it is safe to look.”

Baine glanced at them and his shoulders immediately slumped in relief. “Thank the Earthmother.”

Anduin supposed the assumption was only fair, given how he had startled them all before. Thrall appeared in the doorway behind Baine, and his soft smile lifted Anduin’s spirits. Sadly, he did not expect the same of Jaina.

Sure enough, when she returned to the room, it was bearing the same flat almost-frown she had worn when she came to take him to see Saurfang. “Anduin,” she said quietly.

Anduin would not hear a lecture. He would not entertain her concerns, not now. Perhaps not ever. He turned his hand up and clasped Saurfang’s large fingers with his own smaller ones, watching Jaina with a look that he hoped would make clear his sincerity, and his resolve to keep what he had miraculously regained.

Jaina did not seem pleased, but she made no move to object, either. She simply sighed, and turned to Thrall. “I believe we may need to stay an extra day or two, if the council has no objection.”

Thrall shook his head. “None you will hear from me. Baine?”

“I cannot imagine the others will refuse your request. If you would like,” he added, turning back to Anduin, “I will ask them, and return with an answer.”

“Thank you, Baine. That would be greatly appreciated,” Anduin said. He closed his eyes and leaned into Saurfang’s shoulder, basking in the solidity of his presence. The reassurance that he was still there. Still breathing.

They had much to discuss, and it would take more than a few extra days, but it was a start. Anduin privately hoped that he might yet convince Saurfang to return to Stormwind with him, even if only for a short time. He had no illusions that the road before them would be smooth, or that they would face no greater opposition than Jaina’s frown. Nor was he certain just what would come of this new bond between them in days ahead.

But he had the chance to learn, now. He could find the peace he needed. He could heal.


End file.
